


The Way to a Mans Heart

by Barnesnrogers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Baking, Bucky Barnes Feels, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Stress Baking, bucky is very flippant about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:53:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7831060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnesnrogers/pseuds/Barnesnrogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I mean this is a lot of cookies. How stressed are you?" Steve wonders. </p><p>Oh no, he's cute. </p><p>Bucky needs a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: soldieronsteve

He really didn't mean for this to happen. Honest. 

It had been a long week filled with tasks he didn’t really want to do. Working on a car that just wouldn't fucking run, going to therapy sessions he didn’t really want to attend and attempting to take care of the stupid cat that somehow manages to always end up in his appartment. (He knows he leaves the window open for Arlo, he can’t help it.) Bucky had been having a pretty crappy week, sue him, it happens sometimes. The memories of his time spent as a prisoner of war can get in the way of his daily activities, small, unexpected sounds make him jump and the nightmares happen more regularly, messing up his sleep schedule to almost 6 hours total in a week if it's really bad. So, yeah, Bucky is really fucking tired.

That and Nat’s constant pestering to go out more, meet new people is what breaks him. 

He loves Natasha, he really does. She's stood by him through everything, even when he would wake up with his hands around her throat because he couldn't get the feeling of their hands on him out of his mind. She's the one who pushed him toward regular therapy and helped him start getting re accustomed to the world around him. She's always seen the good in him and he will thank her a million times over for that, which is why he feels extremely guilty after he yells at her.

It's not like he's hiding in his apartment, (he is) it's just that the idea of having to go out and, God forbid, socialize is just such a draining thought. For fucks sake he just wishes Nat would leave him alone for this one time. 

Bucky is really fucking tired and he is upset and he feels bad for yelling so he does what any person in his position would do:

He bakes six dozen chocolate chip cookies.

At four a.m.

Sunday morning. 

(Please stop judging him)

 

“Just one date James.” Nat says, her toes wiggling where they’re tucked under Bucky's legs. Bucky hates this because in the end he knows he’ll go out with whoever Natasha set him up with, just to appease her. He didn’t use to mind, but after a multitude of failed dates he’s starting to see a pattern. Whether it’s his lack of ability to keep the conversation, his arm, or he finds out something terribly off putting about the person, none of the dates ever go well.

“Romanoff, I’m not doing this again. They’re always the same and you know it. Can’t you just leave me to find someone myself?” Bucky asks, knowing fully well what Natashas going to say.

“No. No because you and I both know that is exactly what you're not going to do. James you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself and accept that someone out there will infact find you enjoyable and will want to spend time with you.” Her toes making points, jabbing underneath bucky's legs, finalize her thought. So they're going down the self-deprecating route, nothing new. 

“Nat, c’mon, they never stick around and I can never stick with them, they always have too high hopes for me.” Natasha knows Bucky is just trying to hide the fact he can’t stand complete devotion to another person, hasn’t been able to since the war. The thing is though, Bucky can do self-deprecating, really, the only thing he can actually be committed to is the dark thoughts that sometimes swim around in his brain. They've had a long relationship.

“That’s cause you always tell some horribly fake story about how you lost your arm!” Natasha explains. That is true, if they can’t handle Bucky’s somewhat morbid sense of humor to cover up the loss of his arm they probably won't be able to stick around for the long run. 

“I was thinking maybe rabid dog this time, do you think they like animals?” Bucky started.  
“James-”

“Maybe garbage disposal, that could happen.” 

“One date, who knows this could be-”

“Is a lawnmower too extreme?”

“For God's sake Barnes-”

“Nat, stop!” Bucky yelled, immediately regretting raising his voice. Natasha looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. Now he felt worse.

Natasha has always been able to push Bucky to his limits and not get a fight back. Bucky who has built so many walls around himself and will snarl and bite at anyone who tries to take them down, can never growl at Natasha, she means too much to him.  
“Just, just stop. I get it okay, but just no more.” Bucky got up, getting ready to leave, the room suddenly felt so small. 

“You can’t hide away forever,” Natasha says, standing up as well, “you know this James.” Bucky turns back around and takes in Natasha’s questioning gaze.

_Watch me._

 

The walk back to his apartment is quiet-as suspected- it is a Saturday night, or Sunday morning, depending on how you define 2am. No ones on the street and the March air feels good, even in New York where the remaining bits of winter are still trying to latch on. Bucky’s apartment isn’t too far, a fifteen minute walk at most and it’s not too cold anyways, he’s been in colder.

Two friends walk across the street latching onto each other, laughing. Bucky sighs. The aftermath of fights with Natasha are the fucking worst. Bucky knows she’s right, she knows she’s right, and yet it always ends with him walking out and running away from his problems.

Brilliant, model behaviour, truly.

Without really realizing it Bucky makes his way into the the 24 hour convenience store. So it’s going to be that kind of night, huh? 

Compared to the dark outside, the fluorescent light bulbs are harsh leaving Bucky to squint for a second, the scent of cheap cleaner and plastic surrounds him. Continuing his journey, he walks past the register. The women at the cash doesn't even look up from her crossword puzzle splayed across the counter as he passes. Not even a glance at a man in all black with leather gloves on.

People are too trusting

He’s already making his way to the baking section, not entirely sure what he plans on making, but his hands reach out on their own. 

Flour  
Baking powder  
Sugar  
Chocolate chips  
Sugar  
Sometimes Bucky misses his mom. 

Gathering the ingredients he makes his way to the register and places them on the counter. The cashier finally glances up at him and turns to his items to start scanning them. 

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

God, this was taking awhile.

Beep

What was Natasha thinking bring up the subject of his social life again? She knows it makes him upset. 

Beep….Beep

Holy crap can, Bucky looks at her name tag, Sharon take any longer? Maybe he should take the stuff and run, he was a super secret spy, he could escape. He already scanned the area for all exits when he came in, the back door would-

“-.93, sir.”

-lead him into the alley way, would there be a fence? He’s good at climbing-

“Um..”

It’s only 10 minutes to his apartment, 5 if he runs-

“Sir.” Bucky jerks up like he’s just been stung. He got caught in his head again. Sharon is staring at him expectantly. 

“That’s $12.93 Sir.” Right, the groceries

“Oh, yeah, um,” he starts counting the change from his pocket. $11.50, $11.75… can she stop staring at him?

“Here” he places the change on the counter and grabs the bag

“Do you want your rec-”

“No thanks, Sharon.” and leaves. The fluorescent light was starting to give him a headache. He starts his walk back to his apartment. 

 

Let's get something straight: Bucky is not a baker, he is a stress baker and he has pies, cakes and cookies to prove it. There is nothing more relaxing than following instructions, and if he gets something sweet out of it? Then hey, bonus. When he is strung so tight that he thinks he may snap, orders are good. 

_Add the dry ingredients to the wet and beat until evenly combined. Then, fold in your cup of chocolate chips and mix until they're distributed to your liking._

This is something Bucky can do in his sleep. The calming, mixing, beating, and folding is a precise and repeated motion that gets Bucky out of his head. 

_Roll a tablespoon size of the cookie dough into balls and place on your baking sheet, 5 centimetres apart from each other. Then slide them into the oven for ten to twelve minutes._

Soon his place is going to smell like warmth and home and he can't wait. Bucky methodically beings to clean up, washing and putting items out to dry. More routines, more comfort. 

This was something Bucky could do. 

 

He realized his mistake once the cookies were on the cooling rack, all six dozen of them. Now it was five am on a Sunday morning and “what the fuck am I going to do with 72 cookies?”

 

Realistically he could pack them away in his fridge but they don't always keep and there was already two strawberry rhubarb pies, a dozen sugar cookies and half a lemon poppyseed cake. So that's that. 

Bucky gets stressed often. 

He could give some to Natasha but she's the reason he's in this mess and it isn't time for a peace offering yet. Usually they wait at least three days until one of them cracks and comes over to give their version of an apology which is usually a hug and an offering of some sort. It's was Bucky's turn last fight so now he has to wait for Natasha. He'll save 12 for later. 

Then there's Clint, but knowing him he'll either eat them all at once, give some to Nat or Lucky will get into them. These are all terrible ideas. 

Staring at the offenders is when he hears the click of a lock opening and a door closing as footsteps echo down the hall. Steve! What a brilliant idea. Logically it makes no sense as to why he would give Steve 60 cookies, he has only spoken to him twice. Once when he first moved into the apartment and Bucky gifted him a pie. His mother taught him how to treat a neighbor, thank you very much. The second was in the hallway after one of Steve's morning runs. Through these brief encounters he had learnt some valuable information. 

1\. Steve was from Brooklyn as well.  
2\. He owned a fish named Samwell.  
3\. He is a commissioned artist.  
4\. He has a very broad chest, thighs for days and a great butt. 

Very valuable information. 

So that's how he ended up in front of Steve's door holding a box of 60 chocolate chip cookies at six am in the morning. This is a totally normal thing to. He's just being a friendly neighbor, he's _reaching out._ He sucks at convincing himself 

“Just knock on the fucking door, Barnes” he mutters. So he brings up his fist and lays three short knocks on the door. He was 100% not prepared for a shirtless Steve to answer. 

“Oh, Bucky, hi.” Steve says, confusion evident in his voice as to why Bucky's here. Of course he's confused, he doesn't blame him. Why the fuck did he come?

“Steve, hi….um,” he looks down at his hand and shoves the box into Steve's chest “here.” Goddamn ex-special ops and he can't string together a proper sentence. Steve looks down at the tupperware and realization dawns upon him. 

“Chocolate chip?” He asks.  
“Yeah, uh, yeah. I had a few left over.” Steve balks,  
“You call this a few?” Staring at him then back at the cookies. Bucky chuckles.  
“I stress bake, a lot. I always have leftovers.” Bucky explains. Just then he realizes how lame it sounds and wants to curl up right there and die. He is a grown man who stress bakes sweets and now he's admitting it out loud. Brilliant. 

“I love cookies,” Steve admits, “probably as more as I should.” Smile as light as ever. Bucky looks down ‘nope, you're good’ he thinks. Steve is probably the definition of a Greek statue, tall and toned everywhere. He's fucking Adonis for godsakes. Bucky wants him so badly 

“I mean this is a lot of cookies. How stressed are you?” Steve wonders, brow furrowing in concern. Oh no he's cute.  
“It's nothing, just friends trying to set me up on dates and such.” He replies. He's sure as hell not going to explain in detail.  
“Yeah I know the feeling. I tend to just run the frustration out of my system though. Steve says. And he's single too! Bucky needs a plan. 

“Well anyway, I just thought you might enjoy them,” he starts backing away, “so, enjoy.” 

“Thanks again Bucky.” Steve waves at Bucky's retreating figure. He waves back as he turns towards his apartment, trying to speed walk but appear casual at the same time. Hearing Steve's door click shut he finally lets out the breath he was holding and stumbles through his door. 

He takes in the rest of the mess he has to clean, bowls, wooden spoons and he thinks that's brown sugar on the floor. Does Steve like pie? He seems like a pie type of guy.  
“Oh god.” Bucky whines and rests his head on the wall with a loud thump sound. 

He needs a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

His mother always told Bucky that the quickest way to a man's heart was through his stomach. Bucky decided that now is a good time as ever to test that theory. He never really had the chance because he decided the best time to come out as pansexual to his family was the day before he was to be shipped out. After that, he really didn't think the army was the best place to try to win over a man, and neither was special forces. Then came the whole “prisoner of war” thing, and the “we’re slowly going to cut each of your fingers off, then your forearm and then your entire arm until you give us the information” thing. Help came before they could start on the second arm, but an arms still an arm and it still sucks. So he definitely didn't want to be with anyone for a while. One of Natasha’s super secret contact managed to hook him up with (quite literally, it's connected to his brain and nerves and shit) a snazzy new metal arm though. Apparently that's a thing people can do now. Engineering, huh? So now he's the bionic man, a real life robocop. Living the dream, truly. 

Still, though, Bucky had to deal with panic attacks, anxiety, and nightmares. According to his therapist, a good way to combat the effects of PTSD was having a hobby to keep his mind calm. Baking was that hobby. So far it's been good but now it’s time to test his mother's theory. So that's why he is browsing the aisles of the 24-hour convenience store, picking up pie crust and apples. What's better than a classic apple pie? Nothing in Bucky's opinion. At least the cashier is a bit more speedy with the checkout process. He is probably only 16, tall, but with a baby face. He’s quite quick at scanning the items, the food looking like it's flying off his fingertips. The kid is careful to be gentle though making sure nothing breaks. Bucky is quite surprised, thinking most teenagers were just brats being forced to get a job by their parents. This sparks a bit of curiosity in him.

“Why are you working here?” He asks, breaking the awkward silence. The kid looks up from scanning the items, eyes wide as he is obviously not used to customers starting conversations. “Huh? Oh, well it's just my aunt and me at home so I guess I want to be able to help out as much as I can.” He says and his head ducks down to continue his job.

‘Not a brat then’ Bucky thinks.  
“Will that be all, sir?” The kid asks and Bucky nods, reaching for his wallet. As he hands over the cash the kid blinks at Bucky’s arm, or what his jacket is showing of it.

“You have a metal arm? That’s awesome dude!” He exclaims. Bucky just stares at the kid.  
“I mean, uh, here's your change. He hands over the money but his eyes are still staring at his arm in wonderment  
“Thanks, kid.” He says and turns to leave.  
“Yeah , no problem. Have a good day!” Bucky nods to him and walks out, doors sliding shut behind him. Before they close all the way he hears the kid yell:  
“Wade, you will not believe-”and then they finally close, successfully cutting off what he was saying.  
‘Weird kid’ he thinks. Bucky looks down at his arm. ‘Yeah, it is pretty awesome.” The fluorescent lights still give him a headache though. 

 

When he gets back home can tell Natasha has made a visit. His lock has been jimmied and he can hear that his television is on. As he steps inside he places his bag on the counter and sheds his boots and jackets, making his way over to the couch and falling on it. Natasha has Arlo of her lap and is giving him long strokes from the top of his head to the bottom of his tail. 

“You don't have that many channels. She says. The Food Network is currently on.  
“I know” he replies, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It could be anything with Natasha. She may bring a peace-offering and they can make up or she may just nod and turn back to the TV, not yet ready to apologize. He doesn't really blame her though. Being in special forces for so long doesn't really allow for a quick and easy make up and move on. 

“I brought the cat a gift.” She says, holding out a bag with a logo of a cat jumping, spread across the front. Inside he finds a toy. One of those sticks with a fake mouse attached to it by a string. The toy promises “endless hours of fun between you and your cat!” Bucky turns to her and replies.  
“You're going to make this cat more domestic than it should be.” But he's already tearing at the package. Plastic sealed things are never easy to open. 

“You bought him treats and I know those pillows by the window is a bed.” She answers back, her eyebrow arching in defiance. “Yeah, well.” but he has nothing to fire back with. They turn their attention to the tv once again and continue watching. Maybe Bucky should learn how to cook, something other than sandwiches and mac n’ cheese. When was the last time he had steak? It can't be that hard, he's good at following directions. 

“So,” Natasha starts, “I'm sorry for pushing you to go out on more dates.” she pauses, except Bucky knows there's a ‘but’ coming. “But,” there it is “ I'm only doing it because I'm worried. Since you were discharged you don't go out anymore, the only people you see are Clint, me and the people I force you to see.” she finishes. 

It's not a lie. When he was “honorably discharged” he didn't really go outside because it was too open, the sky was too vast he always felt that there was a gun trained on him. After going to therapy for a while, he no longer felt that he was constantly a target anymore. But there's always the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Now he just doesn't know how to properly act in social interaction very well. He's finally got the toy open. 

“I know you do it because you care but sometimes it makes it worse. I made 72 cookies last night, there’s 12 for you in the fridge.” He says, not mentioning the other 60 but not doubting she'll bring it up. “ I know, I already had some.” She looks at him. “Where are the other 60, James?” Just once, he thinks, just once could she not question him. There's no point in lying to her,

“I gave them to Steve” she stares at him.  
“Steve.” She deadpans.  
“Yeah, Steve.”  
“Who is Steve?”  
“Neighbor Steve.”  
She continues staring.  
“Uh huh, and is neighbor Steve nice?”  
“What? Yeah he's nice”  
“And is neighbor Steve cute?”  
“I mean yeah I guess.” This was getting increasingly awkward for Bucky.  
“Mhm. What's in the bag James?”  
“Pie stuff.”  
“Pie stuff,” more staring “you already have two pies in the fridge.”  
“Well ya know, you can't ever have too many pies.” Wow, Arlo really likes this toy, he should divert all his attention to him right now. Natasha’s waiting.  
“And to give to people maybe.” He continues.  
“People like Steve?”  
“Yeah, Steve could be one of them, maybe.”  
“Okay then. Now, what are you waiting for? Go make Steve's pie.” She finishes, happy with the results.  
“It's not Ste-” Bucky started but gave up when she got up to leave. 

He watches as she makes her way to the front door, slipping on her black boots. He watches her get bundled up for the cold and admires her. If they weren't such good friends he would be asking her out. But they've known each other for years and that one time they slept together was well behind them. Plus she's got Clint now anyway and he knows she's happy no matter what she says. Ever since they finally got their shit together about a year ago they've been really good for eachother. Soon she is leaving, throwing a wink over her shoulder, the red hair disappears down the hallway. Bucky has a pie to make. 

 

‘This is the most beautiful pie I have ever made’ Bucky thinks. The crust is just the right amount of crispy and the middle is the perfect golden brown. The smell itself is amazing, the crisp yet warmth of the apples and the spiciness of the bit of cinnamon surrounds the room. So yes it is probably the best pie he has ever made, and it's not because he had Steve in mind, thank you very much. The pie just baked well, that's all. 

Once the pie was settled on the cooling rack he began methodically cleaning up. Eyes glancing over to the cooling pastry. Would Steve like it? Does Steve even like apples? Oh my god, what if he's allergic. This was a was a terrible plan no matter what his mama would say. Abort mission. Except he couldn't.

Once the cleaning was done he looked at the clock. 6:30pm. If Steve worked a nine to five job he should be home by now. Setting the pie into a tupperware, he began building up the confidence to knock on Steve’s door. He made a pie for Steve and not in a “welcome to the neighborhood, here is a pie” way but an “I made a pie specifically with you in mind because I want to sleep with you but also date you except I'm not going to let myself think about that last part” way. 

He's so fucked. 

He starts making his way over to Steve's. “This is stupid, you're stupid, stop being so stupid” the familiar mantra playing in his head.

Once he gets to Steve door he shakes out his limbs and knocks. The brief second after he knocks he convinces himself he's not home and is about to turn back. But then Steve's standing there with a soft smile. His heart may have skipped a beat with that smile directed towards him. 

“Hi Steve, I made you a pie.” What an opener, round of applause for Bucky Barnes everybody.  
“Really? For me? That's-that's real nice Buck.” Bucky ducks his head at the compliment.  
“It's nothing.” He mutters. Steve just smiles at his downcast eyes.  
“Do you mind bringing it inside? My hands are quite a mess right now.” Bucky just then notices the black on Steve's hands, and Steve's already moving out of the way to let Bucky pass. 

He takes the first steps into Steve's home and it's … chaotic. There's a tarp on the floor with paint all over it and a canvas in front, smack dab in the living area. Beside it there are stacks of canvases, some are filled and some are not. He can see landscapes, faces and still life. Turning towards the window he sees what's most likely gotten Steve's hands so dirty. In front of the window, there is a sheet of paper set up with various parts of the body drawn with charcoal on it. From hands to eyes, feet, and ears. All different and in different poses. All incredibly detailed. 

“Sorry for the mess,” he hears Steve say. “It's usually- well it's usually a lot worse. You've actually caught me on a good day.” He explains. Bucky's still staring at the art that covers almost every inch of the room, eyes always coming back to the paper. Why does it look so familiar? 

“Well anyway, you can have a seat if you can find somewhere that's not a mess, I just have to wash off my hands. Oh! You can set the pie on the counter.” He finishes, moving towards, what Bucky presumes, is the kitchen. 

“You're an artist.” He blurts out. The pie has been successfully placed on the counter.  
“Well, yeah, I guess? It's more of a side job slash hobby. I take commissions and stuff and get paid but I've been drawing my whole life,” he says, his ears tinged a light pink as if he's embarrassed at admitting he has a talent. “I actually work down at the VA with my friend." He explains.

“It's sick. I can't draw for shit so kudos to you.” Bucky replies.  
“S’okay, just takes practice.” Steve says.  
“Don't got the patience.” Bucky states.  
“Yet you have the patience to bake 60 cookies and now a pie?” Steve teases, smile on his lips.  
“I can take back the pie.” Bucky threatens. Steve looks so good lending against the counter, a soft t-shirt on with sweatpants and a smile teasing his lips. Bucky wants to kiss him so badly. 

“No, no please I'll be good.” Steve begs; laughter threatening to escape him. “What kind is it by the way?” Steve asks looking at the box.  
“Open it and you'll find out.” Bucky chirps back. Steve eyes him then turns to the container. Opening the lid he peers inside, “Apple, how homey. It smells amazing Buck” Steve gushes and he turns to start rummaging through his cupboard. “Before I forget,” he peers inside a bit more and with an ‘aha!’ pulls out the container that held his cookies. “Here you go. And before you ask, no I did not eat them all myself. I brought some down to the VA, they were a hit.” Steve says, smile bright on his face. 

“Oh, thank you. I'm glad they all liked them.” Bucky replies, not really used to getting compliments on his baking from strangers. Steve starts getting plates out. 

“Do you want to stay and have a piece? I mean it's only fair since you did make it.” Steve asks. Bucky wants to, so badly. But he can't. As much as he wants to stay, maybe end up pushing Steve against the counter and start kissing him senseless, maybe eat pie off his naked body, he can't. 

That would be every rude slash kind of rapey and  
He hasn't been with anyone in a really long time and he doesn't feel like now is the right time to change that. 

“Thanks, but my cat’s at home and he gets lonely pretty quickly.” Bucky has no idea where Arlo actually is. Steve looks saddened at first but quickly lights back up. 

“Another time then?” He asks as he walks Bucky back to the front door.  
“Yeah, definitely.” He replies as he's leaving. Steve gets him, he does. Anyone could see through that shitty lie but Steve just rolls with it, understanding that now is not the time for Bucky.  
“I'm looking forward to it.” Steve says honestly, smile still on his face.  
“Yeah, I'll see you around.” Bucky answers. 

Steve closes the door and Bucky is left standing in the hallway, clutching the empty tupperware. 

He's so fucked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have about two more chapters written up for this. The next chapter will hopefully be a bit longer!  
> Tumblr: soldieronsteve.tumblr.com


End file.
